


White Violets, Red Roses

by alby_mangroves



Series: Yuletide Stories [10]
Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book: Anne of Avonlea, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, Language of Flowers, Misses Clause Challenge, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, Storms, Typical Anne Shirley Shinanigans, Yuletide 2017, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves
Summary: “Mrs Lynde mentioned just this morning that Uncle Abe had predicted a snow storm,” Diana said, trying to rub the chill from Anne’s hands, to slip the rubbers from her feet and pull the sopping wet coat away from her neck all at the same time and achieving none of those things, “so naturally everybody expected the exact opposite.”





	White Violets, Red Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rina (rinadoll)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinadoll/gifts).



> Thank you to MJ and to Nony for their cheering, canon-pick and beta, and to the Yuletide mods for all-round awesomeness ♥

# ~ ❄ ❦ ❅ ~

Anne pressed her nose to the cold window glass and tried to see outside past the reflection of her own face.

Snow had piled up on the windowsill and intricate laces of ice curled up the glass. It was not quite four in the afternoon, but already the sky was black as ink. Or, it would have been if not for the snow; Anne couldn't even see the orchard for the thick white curtain gusting across the lane. They had been so pleasantly occupied in the kitchen, they hadn’t noticed when the wind had picked up, and it seemed to be getting worse with every passing moment.

"Diana,” Anne called over her shoulder, unlacing the ties of her apron and slipping it from her shoulders, ”when did you say your mother was due back home again?" 

There was a loud bang from downstairs—Diana latching the cast-iron stove door—and Diana's voice drifted up, getting louder along with her footsteps on the stairs.

"Mother said they'd set out mid-morning, and—oh! Oh, no," Diana breathed, coming to stand beside Anne at the window, wiping her hands on her apron. They watched the snow fall and fall. She’d brought the delightful scent of mince pies with her; they made the whole house smell divine now that Diana had set them out to cool. "Oh, Anne, I do hope they aren't caught in this awful weather." She rested her hand on Anne’s shoulder and leaned into the window. Tendrils of her beautiful black curls escaped her bun to tickle Anne’s neck, and Anne reached out to tuck a runaway lock behind Diana’s ear. She was rewarded with a small, worried smile.

"It does look rather worse than expected," Anne said. "I am certain that they saw the onset and decided to stay on at White Sands until the morning. It will blow itself out soon enough, you’ll see.”

“Yes, I expect so,” Diana said, as though she didn’t quite believe it, and looking at the great eddies being blown about outside, Anne didn't quite believe it either. It looked like it was fit to blow the proverbial house down.

Diana's fingers caught up anxiously in the trim of Anne's sleeve and Anne took her hand and squeezed in gentle reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’m certain they're just fine.”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, we shall have to—what is that?”

Anne, registering Diana’s perplexed expression, followed her line of sight outside.

"What is what?" Anne said, and then, looking between the stables and the row of bare poplars all standing in a row—there, she saw it too, though it couldn’t be, could it? 

The Diana reflected in the window scrunched up her nose. "Is that a—"

"—a goat," Anne finished, her eyebrows climbing. "Good lord. It's a goat."

Diana and Anne shared an incredulous look. There was, in fact, a goat standing quite still in the midst of a snowstorm as if it had no idea there was a snowstorm going on at all. Anne stared.

"It's going to freeze on the spot," Diana said.

"I don't think it cares," Anne replied, getting to her feet. "We'll have to bring it in."

"Oh no, Anne, you cannot mean it, you'll be blown away!"

"We can't leave the poor, dumb beast out there, Diana, I won't be able to get a single wink of sleep knowing that while we are cozied up inside, a poor billy goat froze to death outside."

Anne was already at the door, pulling her coat tightly around her and her rubbers onto her feet when Diana grabbed her winter coat, too. At Anne's questioning glance, Diana stood tall, as if to say, _you can be stubborn, but so can I_. "You simply cannot go out there by yourself without at least a lantern to light the way, and you’re going to need both your hands to bring the goat out of the weather!"

When it was not just her own health at risk but Diana’s too, Anne felt an uncomfortable pang of common sense and opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say a word, the goat bleated plaintively and all that remained was to go out there and rescue the poor, stupid thing which had somehow loosed itself to wander away into a proper Christmas blizzard.

"Oh, very well. Come along, you shall be my lighthouse keeper and I shall be the ship looking towards your light to guide me back home. Oh, that is rather romantic, isn’t it?" Anne said, much pleased with herself.

“Yes,” Diana nodded, and patted Anne’s hand. "May you bring your goat cargo into port safely, Captain Shirley," and then they were both giggling and Anne stepped off the porch into the thick of it.

# ~ ❄ ❦ ❅ ~

Walking out into the Barrys’ garden was like falling through ice and into a frozen lake. Anne gasped at the shock of the blizzard’s icy fingers touching her nose, her hands, every exposed piece of her, tiny flakes pelting at her face. Putting one foot in front of the other proved an effort, and together with holding the coat to her chest as she leaned into the wind and shuffled slowly forward so that her rubbers weren't sucked off her feet, she must have made a forlorn figure indeed.

True to her word, Diana stood on the porch, her coat and her braid whipped about in a frenzy. She bravely held up the lantern through every gust for Anne to see, and just as well, for it was truly like wading through soup, if only the soup was rushing by at a rate of knots, trying to rip your coat from your shoulders while simultaneously attempting to pack a layer of snow beneath your collar. Anne clutched the flapping coat to her body and trudged on towards the goat. The poor beast had noticed her approach and was watching her warily from under the bare poplar like some horned harbinger of doom.

As she neared it, Anne saw a torn rope tether around its neck, with a bell dangling from it, and she reached out meaning to grab it, but her fingers were hurting, stinging numb with cold, and she scrabbled at the goat’s neck before she was able to get her fingers under the rope and give it a tug.

The goat didn’t budge.

She yanked again, but it had decided to stay under the poplar, and no amount of yanking was making any difference, though its little bell did ring balefully at Anne's efforts. Anne gave it another try, and with no success, she turned to the house to see if Diana had any ideas. She could not see her friend for the thick snow blowing all about, but there was the flickering candle in the lantern held aloft in Diana’s hand, looking very much like a lighthouse in the dark, a fuzzy golden halo around it, melting out into the night. Anne turned back to the goat, its eyes rolling up to meet hers in a stubborn flash.

"Oh, come, you silly thing," she said, "can't you see I'm trying to help you?" The goat didn't budge, so in a last-ditch effort, she, let go of the coat and grabbed the goat's horns.

If the goat had been standing still before, Anne’s hand on its horn made it stiffen up like it’d been struck by a bolt of lighting. Perhaps it was the indignity of being handled in such a way or perhaps the silly creature had finally decided that yes, indeed it was a little chilly out and mayhap the human had a point—whatever the reason, it suddenly stopped resisting and bolted forward, sending Anne careening backwards into a puff of snow.

She went over with a startled shout and landed hard on the frozen ground. The goat ran off towards the stables and managed to find shelter there under the eaves and at least Anne could be glad of that, even as she cataloged her own dire situation. Her coat was already nearly soaked through and her bruised hip ached in loud complaint when she finally managed to push herself to her feet and set out for the house, Diana’s lantern her only guide.

Diana was shouting, her voice—if not quite the words—carrying on the wind, but Anne's teeth chattered so hard she thought they might break, and she could not force a word out to reply. She supposed there was a first time for everything.

# ~ ❄ ❦ ❅ ~

They stumbled into the house and Diana deposited Anne in front of the stove but she simply could not stop shaking, and the naked heat on her face felt like needles, stinging. The wind was positively howling outside and it was hard to believe she’d just been out there, and all for the sake of a goat which hadn’t needed rescuing after all.

Diana was fussing, still a little frantic. Her hair had come loose and was curling in black ribbons around her dear and lovely face, and at that moment, though she was still shaking, something inside Anne went very quiet and still.

“Mrs Lynde mentioned just this morning that Uncle Abe had predicted a snowstorm,” Diana said, trying to rub the chill from Anne’s hands, to slip the rubbers from her feet and pull the sopping wet coat away from her neck all at the same time and achieving none of those things, “so naturally everybody expected the exact opposite.”

Anne giggled, and once she started she found that she just couldn’t stop—a little trickle at first, then she was burbling with it like a brook, then awash with it, her whole body shaking. Diana looked up, shocked, and then she started laughing too. The two of them leaned on each other, disheveled and wet through and icy cold all the way down to their fingers.

“Let’s go up to bed, Anne, you may as well stay the night, Marilla is probably already assuming that you are,” Diana said. “And I’m certain Mother stayed on in White Sands for the night and there isn’t anything more to be done tonight except to keep warm and get some rest while we can.”

“At least we can be reasonably sure there are no elderly aunts waiting to be traumatized in our beds tonight,” Anne managed through her chattering teeth, and Diana snickered, shuffling the both of them up the stairs. 

# ~ ❄ ❦ ❅ ~

They stripped off their wet things and Anne spared a small thought for their poor wet coats abandoned on the floor downstairs, but there was not a chance on God’s green—or white, as it were—earth that she was going anywhere but into Diana’s bed tonight to defrost.

She quickly let herself be bundled into Diana’s own blush pink nightgown and the two of them slipped under Diana’s quilt in a flurry of cold toes, pointy elbows and much giggling until finally they were tucked in together, back to back just like they used to do when they were little girls and Anne’s biggest concern was not Redmond College but how to get rid of the freckles on her nose. Well, to be fair, the freckles were still a big concern and probably would be for the rest of her life, afflicted with them as she was, but the sentiment rang true.

Behind her, Diana huffed and wriggled around until she had tucked her knees in behind Anne’s, the two of them nestled together like spoons. “Can’t you get warm, Anne? Does this help a little?” Diana began to rub her hand over Anne’s arm and shoulder, and yes, Anne supposed it did help a little, as did the comfort of her friend’s warm body against her own.

Anne’s hair had slipped its ties and lay cold and still a little damp upon Diana’s pillow, and she tried to tuck it away but her fingers, still quite frozen, didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Still, she scrabbled at it with her shaking hands until Diana took pity and gathered it away into a twist up above her head.

“You gave me a fright,” Diana said softly, still petting her hair, and Anne huffed a laugh.

“I think I gave that infernal goat a fright, too, did you see how it ran like the hounds of hell were at its heels? What a tale. I wonder where it came from!”

“I expect we shall find out tomorrow, Mrs Lynde is sure to know before anyone else.” Diana’s fingers were still gently scratching through her hair, and Anne shivered against her. She caught Diana’s hand and brought it to her face, her heart feeling so very full and content, tucked warm and safe in Diana’s bed. Diana's small hand cupped her cheek. "You look perfectly lovely in pink, you know."

“Oh, you cannot mean it,” Anne sighed, rolling her eyes. She knew perfectly well what she looked like, white and freckly and carroty and not at all fit to wear blushing pinks and roses.

“But I do, I truly do,” Diana said quietly, and held Anne close, and kissed her temple, and then the apple of her cheek. 

Anne groaned dramatically as only Anne could, and turned to face her. “Please, Diana, don’t be so cruel as to make fun of me about it! I simply could not stand it if you did. You of all people, my dearest bosom friend,” she said, and she would have gone on, except that there was something queer in Diana’s face, something in her eyes that didn’t feel quite like a jest. Anne’s heart pounded against her ribs and she was no longer the slightest bit cold.

“I would never,” Diana whispered, wide-eyed, her fingers trembling slightly on Anne’s cheek as she slowly leaned in, breath warm on Anne’s lips and pressed a soft kiss to Anne's cold mouth.

When Diana drew away, Anne looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. Her heart was in her throat and her body was alight with the shock of her first kiss, and it made perfect sense, it clicked inside her in some secret room she hadn’t known existed. They’d placed a candle on the dresser and the light danced in Diana’s dark eyes, the hair Anne had always coveted spilling out over both of them like a silk coverlet and though it was close and snug and shady, Anne’s heart was soaring.

Diana’s fingers skipped along Anne’s ear and caressed her cheek, then made their way down to Anne’s throat, where the buttons of her nightgown hadn’t been quite done up on account of their hurry to get into bed. A shiver worked its way up from Anne’s toes to her belly and up her throat, making her stomach clench and her skin tingle, which had nothing at all to do with the cold.

Diana bent her head once again, and this time, Anne was ready. She kissed right back, the shiver once again fluttering all along her spine up to the nape of her neck, making her gasp, making her belly clench up hot and her heart gallop along inside her chest and dive into more kisses, once, twice upon Diana’s soft lips. 

“Anne,” Diana whispered, “my sweet Anne,” and kissed her again, on her mouth and then her jaw and under her ear, making Anne sigh and clutch at Diana’s shoulders. She slid her fingers into that glorious inky black curtain of hair.

“Are you quite warm now?” Diana asked, and pressed another kiss to the base of Anne’s throat.

“I’m struck dumb for the second time this night,” Anne managed, pulling Diana closer.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Diana said with gravity, and they shared a little huff of laughter. Diana’s fingers played with the buttons at her throat and Anne bit her lip, bringing her own unsteady fingers up to the collar of her borrowed gown. She unfastened a button, then two, then three, and they looked up at each other, barely breathing.

“What are we doing,” she whispered, letting Diana spread open the wings of her nightgown to expose the valley between her breasts. Diana rose up on her elbow, her hair spilling down.

“Do you remember our Golden Picnic,” Diana said, her warm breath making Anne’s skin pebble, “and coming upon Hester Gray’s garden?”

“Of course I do,” Anne breathed, not daring to move too much for fear that Diana would stop. The nightgown was unbuttoned and Diana’s fingers tickled along Anne’s collarbones in the sweetest approximation of torture Anne had ever known. “I went by to visit that very place many times since.”

“I don’t have your gift with words, Anne, and I don’t see the magic in the world quite the way that you do but here you are, just like Priscilla said.” Diana gently pulled the nightgown aside, baring Anne’s small, pale breast. “A soul like a white violet with a purple heart.” And at that, she pressed her warm mouth right over Anne’s heart, kissing her with all the gentle ceremony of a blessing. 

Anne gasped and buried her fingers in Diana’s hair, completely unmoored and widely, fiercely awake. She held Diana’s face between her hands and brought their mouths together, sweet, soft kisses that made her belly come alive again with the flutter of a hundred butterflies and had she been freezing cold just moments ago? Now, she burned as hot as a coal stove.

Her fingers found the ties at Diana’s neck and made short work of them so that they were chest to chest, Diana on her elbows above her. Outside, the wind continued to howl and gust, but in Diana’s bedroom, all was quiet, warm and safe.

Anne slipped her hand beneath the neck of Diana’s gown and pushed it from her shoulder so that they were nearly touching, her own small and white and dark-peaked breast, and Diana’s full and round and rosy one, flushed crimson at the tip. It was awe she was feeling, she realised. Awe at the two of them fitting so easily together, this treasure of adoration she felt for Diana which had been fostering and growing for years within their deep, true friendship.

“And here _you_ are,” she said, wonderingly, “a soul like a red, red rose,” and she pulled Diana down to kiss her mouth and hold her close.

Even as the snow grew thicker on the windowsill and the candle finally burned out in a little hiss of smoke, they slept the first of many nights just like this, pressed heart to heart, loved and protected in each other’s embrace.

# ~ ❄ ❦ ❅ ~


End file.
